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Rex
On the way to Hyde Park, he and Mary had barely exchanged two words. Sitting stiffly on the seat beside him, she seemed miles away, lost in her own thoughts. Rex had to stifle the urge to haul her over his lap and spank her secrets out of her. While the notion was tempting, it was also unlikely to foster any real trust between them and wasn’t how he wanted to start his marriage. Especially as they were in public in an open carriage, a choice he was now somewhat regretting.
He had spent all morning pondering how to go forward with his marriage and the Society. The path he had once assumed he would take no longer appealed. After considering the options, he had gone in search of his wife, only to find her readying to leave the house.
During the ride, he conjured up a hundred different possibilities for this mysterious ‘friend.’ A man? Someone entirely unsuitable to be acquainted with? A vagabond? A thief?
The last thing he expected was a perfectly presentable servant woman—he assumed by her serviceable dress—sitting beneath a willow tree with Misses Davis and Pennyworth.
“Wait here,” Mary said, her voice pleading but with a hint of steel. Contemplating the request for a moment, Rex finally nodded. He saw no reason not to wait. One way or another, he was going to receive an explanation.
“Let me help you down, at least.” He waited for her small nod of acceptance before getting to his feet.
Despite the barouche stopping a small distance from them, the three women had become alert as soon as it came to a halt. When Rex got out of the carriage, they stood, and the mystery woman faded back, the other two standing in front of her as if to shield her. Curiosity roused to a peak, he gritted his teeth against his impatience and helped Mary out of the carriage.
Only slightly mollified by the apologetic look she gave him before hurrying toward the other three, he leaned back against the side of the barouche, crossing his arms over his chest. The horses were well trained and stood quietly, the groom patiently waiting and pretending nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Mary had not wanted a groom, but Rex had insisted. Otherwise, he would have had to be the one to wrangle with the horses, which would not be conducive to meeting her mystery friend.
From the gestures Misses Davis and Pennyworth were making, he could all too easily imagine their conversation, although they kept their voices far too low to make out.
Why did you bring him?
He is not supposed to be here.
What were you thinking?
The woman in brown put her hand up, and Mary leaned in. He could imagine her explanations, too, and his lips twitched at her agitation. There was some comfort that he was not the only one in such a state.
Taking the opportunity to dispassionately observe the women, Rex noted both Miss Davis and Miss Pennyworth were garbed similarly to Mary—fashionably, but in more muted colors, so they did not draw the eye. Well, Miss Pennyworth had done her best. She naturally seemed to attract attention, and her wardrobe was in slightly bolder shades than most debutantes, but she had put forth the effort to dampen her effect somewhat.
Most people’s gazes would probably skip right over them, thinking them to be nothing more than young women meeting by the Serpentine to gossip. The woman in brown blended in and had easily been hidden behind the two misses. Indeed, if he had not already met Miss Pennyworth, his eye would have been drawn to her first, then to Miss Davis, and only then would he have wondered about the third woman, if he noticed her at all.
Yet now that he saw them interacting all together, it was clear she was their leader.
Fascinating.
When Mary turned back to him and waved, beckoning, Rex responded with alacrity. The carriage would do well enough where it was—without occupants, any passersby would assume they had stepped out for a stroll while the groom waited—and it would help block the view of the willow from some angles. Anticipation burgeoned, tinged with relief. He did not know what he would have done if they had refused to speak with him.
Coming closer, he could see wariness on their faces. Focusing on the servant woman, he found himself frowning. At first glance, she was a pleasant-faced woman, nothing remarkable, then her expression changed. He could not say exactly how, only that it did, and her beauty and intelligence shone through. Rex almost gaped as he came to a halt beside his wife, his arm snaking out to wrap around Mary’s back, a hand resting on her hip. The gesture was possessive but also a declaration—he was her husband and would not tolerate secrets.
He did not have any from her. Granted, telling her had not been his choice, but still.
The servant woman, who he was quite certain was no such thing, met his gaze evenly. This was not a woman who would be easily managed. Not that Mary was either, but Rex knew how to handle her and thought he could likely do so with Miss Davis and Miss Pennyworth as well. This woman, though? He could not think of a single person in the Society he would wager on when it came to a battle of wills, including himself. Not that he would wager against himself, either; he rather thought any contest between them would end in a draw. Still, that was saying something—he could count the number of people he would make a similar deduction about on his fingers. She was in rare company.
She was also deucedly familiar, though he had never met her before. Something in her bone structure, not the eyes, though. No, her blazing green eyes, full of challenge and suspicion, were her own. He would remember seeing eyes like that before.
“Rex, this is my friend Evie. Evie, my husband Rex, the Marquess of Hartford.” Mary was stiff beside him as she introduced them. Rex’s eyes narrowed at the lack of a surname, studying Evie more closely. The name and his increasing confidence she resembled someone he knew were ringing a peal in the back of his head, setting off an alarm. Somehow, someway, he must be acquainted with her family or a relative. If only he could think of who because his brain was giving him a warning.Danger. Not good.
“Evie.” He let the name roll off his tongue, hoping it would prod his memory, but no such luck.
“Hartford.” She nodded her head as though they were equals, giving him another small clue to her identity. Definitivelyton. Possiblyhaut ton.
Mary
Watching Rex and Evie face off like two dualists was nerve-wracking. Mary was acutely aware of his arm round her waist, effectively claiming her in front of her friends, but the truth was, she had very divided loyalties. She would not betray her friends, but neither was she comfortable keeping secrets from Rex. If he had been an indifferent husband, it would not matter, but there was something growing between them, and she wanted it to blossom into love.
Indeed, she was fairly certain she was already well on her way to falling in love with him. She would throw herself into the emotion unreservedly if only she could trust he felt some inkling of the same.
Josie and Lily seemed to be holding their breath as well, though for them, the stakes were not nearly so high. Rex and Evie just had that effect.
